


The vital Need for which I would die

by harnatano (orphan_account)



Series: We are anathema [2]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M, the feanorians and the 7 deadly sins became something
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-10
Updated: 2015-06-10
Packaged: 2018-04-03 19:17:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4112044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/harnatano
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I really needed to do something about my headcanons The Fëanorians and the 7 Deadly Sins (which is part of this series, I advice you to read it first.)</p><p>English isn't my first language, please forgive the grammar and spelling mistakes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The vital Need for which I would die

**Author's Note:**

> The title is a quote from 4.48 Psychosis, by Sarah Kane, just like the series' title.

As soon as Maedhros saw it, he needed it. It wasn't so much, just a tapestry that reminded him of the ones that decorated the walls in Tirion. Not so much indeed, but it meant a lot to him.  
"Tell me your price." The Noldo asked coldly, sternly, and in his voice there was no enthusiasm, no excitement. It was always like this when he talked to strangers, or during his moments of doubts and fear. Before Angband, he wasn't like that. Before Angband his voice was always soft, friendly, warm. It seemed so long ago... "How much ?"  
The mortal gazed at his wife, confusion shining on his face. "Forgive me, my lord. I'm afraid I don't understand."  
"How much for the tapestry behind you? I'll pay anything."  
"My lord..." The mortal turned his head to give a quick look at the tapestry that had been washed and which was now drying in the sunlight."It is not for sell. My daughters made it for our own delight and it is surely not worthy of a lord like you... "  
The copper head Noldo paused, confused thougths running through his mind. Worthy. The word in the mouth of this old human had almost made him jumped with surprise and now, he was painfully holding back a bitter laugh. When had he been worthy of anything? "I am no thief." He stated clamly, with something like a smile on his face. "But your daughters' work is fantastic and I would really appreciate if you could allow me to buy it."  
"My lord, my daughters will be genuinely flattered by your praise, but I cannot sell this tapestry, not to you nor to anyone."  


Why was he even there? Maedhros had planned to stay a few days with Caranthir, not only to talk and discuss about the future of the March, but also because he was missing him. He was missing his brother. But these words, the only words that truly mattered, had never crossed his scarred lips. 'There is a huge open air market on the shores of the lake, You should see it Nelyo. You didn't come here only to stay locked up in your chamber all day. Take some fresh hair, it will do some good to you.' Caranthir had insisted with an unusual kindness and a smile that Maedhros had rarely seen before. That's probably why he had accepted and why he was there now, bergaining with this honest, and yet stubborn mortal.  


"My lord, you must understand, this tapestry is very dear to us." The words awoke him from his bitter daydream.  
"Dear to you..." Maedhros repeated in a whisper, to himself, a wave of old memories rushing to his mind "I understand. But as I said, I am not a thief, I mean to pay you the price, whatever its true value is."  
"My lord, if I may... I do not think that you can pay for its sentimental value. Please, do not insist."  
Maedhros's eyes wandered slowly over the so needed tapestry. To anyone else, it would have seemed a crude one. There was nothing precious, poor materials, the colours wasn't particularly nice and the whole tapestry was actually common. But there was something about it, something the Noldo couldn't name, something which was soothing him. " Allow me to insist."  
His voice had been much more stern than he had planned. It wasn't a polite demand anymore, but an order. The mortal's eyes widened as the first sparks of apprehension appeared on his face. It must be impressive, Maedhros thought. This tall elven lord, with a hand missing, scars over his face and copper hair that hadn't totelly grown back yet. And as he imagined how terrifying he could seem to these mortals, an aching bitterness started to rise whitin him. He didn't want to be the frightening one. He didn't want this role, he didn't his voice to make people tremble with fear. And yet, he knew he could do it. He knew he could become... this. "I need it."  
"You... You need it, my lord?" The mortal seemed more confused than ever, unable to understand why, to understand how, to understand him. "My lord, I don't intend to be rude, but please, leave us now. This tapestry is not for sell, we are not interested in your offer though we truly appreciate your praise."  


This wasn't enough. Clenching his fists to hold back the wave of frustration that suddenly tried to overtake his mind, Maedhros shut his eyes and made a wish. And he wished things were different, he wished this old man could give him what he desired, what he needed, he wished this refusal wouldn't dig deeper into his soul and send him into an endless abyss of frustration and agony.  


But when he lifted his eyelids, nothing had changed. The mortal was still in front of him, his eyes begging for peace, begging him. But Maedhros would have begged too, he would have let himself fall on his knees and beg the old man to sell him what he so desperatly needed. "Don't make me repeat it."  
There was a threat in the Noldo's voice, a threat that reminded him too much of his father after the Darkening. The words themselves could have been Feanaro's words and Maedhros trembled at the sound of his own voice. Yet, before he could stop it, the elf's fist hit the table that layed between him and the mortal, and angry punch that almost broke the wooden surface. Maedhros was about to add something – maybe a threat, but he didn't know, his mind, his tongue, everything seemed out of control now. The only thing he knew was that he needed this tapestry, he crave it as much as he craved the silmarils, as much as he had craved his brothers when he was locked in Morgoth's dungeons, as much as he was craving Fingon day after day – when he felt an hand on his good shoulder. A warm, heavy hand that pinned, settled him down to the ground, that saved him from his growing madness.  
"Brother please." Caranthir's voice wasn't often soft, and as he squeezed Maedhros's shoulder, as the words slipped from his lips to reach Maedhros' mutilated ear, it still wasn't. Nothing in common with Maglor's melodious tone, and yet, much to Maedhros's surprise, it worked, it affected him. "Let's go, Nelyo. Let's find us something to drink."  
His fist still on the table, Maedhros allowed his brother to pull him backwards, he allowed Moryo to take him away from this madness. His own madness. The dark haired Noldo spoke, only a ferw words, to the poor old man, promises of idemnification for the troubles, but Maedhros wasn't listening. He couldn't. His mind, his body was burning with a fire he couldn't extinguish. It was need. This endless need to grab, to take, to possess. How could Moryo understand ? How could anyone understand?  
"Shh brother, I'm here, everything is fine. It's not your fault."  
Grindind his teeth, Maedhros didn't reply but in his mind he was screaming. It was his fault.

When they came back to his chamber, Moryo guided him, carried him to a large, comfortable chair, and Maedhros leaned against it, sank into it, almost culdding between the armchairs, his fingers brushing against the soft material. Caranthir didn't say a word, but as he poured his brother a glass of water, he was glancing at him, discreetly, noticing the way Maedhros left hand clasped around the fabric, how he grabbed it, in a desperate try to possess it or to find something real and solid that would keep him on the ground.

\--

When Kanafinwë received a letter from his little brother a few days after, he wasn't surprised to learn what had happened. And he blamed himself. He should have informed Moryo, he should have told him how to keep Nelyo away from these... temptations. A market. That was the last place where he should be.  
And when Maedhros visited him on his way back to Himring, Maglor hadn't been surprised to discover the few carriages that were following his escort. With an insane enthusiasm, Maedhros showed him all the things he had found, bought, taken. Vases, paintings, a set of plates he had no actual need for, capes... and the tapestry. Maglor was nodding, smiling sadly at his brother's excitement, for he knew that, a few hours later, he would find Nelyo regretting it all. He would find him curled up on his bed, anxiety and pain and despair forcing him to lay down, and he would have no words to fill the emptiness, to sooth the fire that Maedhros desperatly tried to cover.


End file.
